


Checkmate

by Stella_STARgazer



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Anger, F/F, Governor Vera, Prisoner Joan, verbal duel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stella_STARgazer/pseuds/Stella_STARgazer
Summary: A different take on how Vera's first visit with Joan in isolated protection might have gone.





	Checkmate

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea for something a tad more aggressive for their first encounter in isolated protection. Much of the dialogue is taken from 4x1, but I've played a bit with the sequencing and obviously the direction that it takes.   
> I hope you enjoy, and if so, let me know! :)

She finds herself en route to isolated protection, long past the midnight hour but before the glimpse of dawn seeps in through the iron curtains of the dusky bar-clad windows. When all remains quiet, almost serene, in this place of bitter chaos and decay. She could have, should have, gone home hours ago, yet she finds herself still here, drawn into the belly of the beast, lured by the fallen queen residing there. The taste of victory lies fresh on her tongue and, petty as ever, she craves to rub it in. She might have let it pass before, but the condescending look in that black hole gaze as it settled at her side after exiting the browler had provoked a change of heart. Even shackled at the wrists, the infuriating woman still believed she held the throne. 

Swiping into the unit she dismisses the lone officer on duty with a simple nod of her imposter’s bun. Murphy obliges without question, all too eager for that nicotine high that gets her through the dull shifts, and a breath of the fresh night air. At least the woman she’s guarding here is interesting, and has deep pockets to reward unscrupulous deeds, but nothing comes between Dear Brenda and her much needed fag.

Now alone, save for the Iron Maiden, Vera moves into the control room and cuts the feed on the camera that films the interior of the unit. She’ll turn it back on when she goes, chalking up the black out to an inconvenient technical glitch; everything in this place is falling apart.

Approaching the plexiglass wall a little mouse peers inside at the lioness sleeping in her den. She’s laid on her side on the tiny cot, her back to the open room, her right arm wrapped around her midsection, hand draped across her side. The swell of her full hip rises high above her slim waist and impossibly long legs. The steady rise and fall of her ribcage indicates she is in slumber, so Vera silently watches her for a moment, suddenly struck by how serene and unimposing the older woman looks in repose. A fleeting wish pops into her mind, catching her off guard: if only the woman were facing the room, so she’d get a glimpse of her handsome features as they appear fully relaxed in sleep. The thought shocks her and she quickly drops her gaze to the floor as she reaches for the key on her belt, beckoned further by the regal prisoner contained within the glass cage.

Nervous anticipation quickens the pace of her hummingbird heart as she disengages the lock with the turn of her master key. Unbeknownst to her, onyx eyes slowly draw open as she steps into the cell, though the predator had already sensed her presence as soon as she had crossed the threshold of the unit. She turns to gingerly close the door and is startled when the telltale hum of the former governor’s voice husks into the stillness that surrounds them.

“You should have told me you were coming, I would have put the kettle on.” She mewls dryly, her back still turned to the intruder. Vera’s lips fall open in surprise, though she knows she shouldn’t be; don’t all monsters possess a sixth sense? Slowly the beautiful beast rolls over and rises to sit on the edge of the cot, rolling her broad shoulders and elegant neck as she shakes the stiffness free. Her ebony mane falls freely around her glowing face, casting her dark eyes in an even darker shadow as she lifts her gaze to the small woman standing before her. The image alone would send most people running, but the little mouse with her false sense of authority doesn’t budge.

“I didn’t want you here. I petitioned corrections to have you remanded into the state; your lawyer fought the petition. Why?” Vera cuts right to the point, her arms crossed afront her narrow chest in what she perceives to be an authoritative manner, but Joan knows the gesture for what it truly is: defensiveness and insecurity. Eyeing her former deputy with a casual smirk, she indulges Vera’s question. “I wanted to see what it looks like.”

“The prison?” Vera queries with a hint of condescension.

Dark eyes settle to the insignia stitched on Vera’s epaulette; the symbol stolen from her due to a lapse in well-controlled emotion. “That little gold crown on your shoulder. Makes you look...taller.”

Vera huffs with amusement and chooses to ignore the uncharacteristically weak insult- the invitation to another Devil’s game. “You’ll be housed in this unit until your trial. After sentencing, you’ll be moved to another facility. I’ll see to that.”

Pulling at the sleeve of her sweater, Joan picks a piece of invisible lint as her dark gaze settles on Vera’s piercing aquamarine stare. “You know I’m innocent; I was set up. I saved a child’s life. I’m a hero.” A sly smile lights her lips at the righteous title.

“Good luck convincing a jury.” Vera retorts sarcastically, dropping her hands to casually slip them into her trouser pockets.

Joan inhales sharply as a diabolical twinkle glints in her umber eyes. “Tell me, how does it feel, Vera, to finally have everything you’ve ever wanted?” Her dark eyes narrow as she delivers her final call to arms in a dangerous whisper: “Except me, of course. Because you wanted that too, didn’t you?”

Immediately, Vera’s jaw clenches as the words hit her ears and a burning blush quickly spreads beneath her collar. Embarrassment and anger fill her tiny frame and the corner of her mouth begins to twitch. She should have known better than to think the omniscient woman never knew. But that was months ago, before she knew better, before she saw through the facade of Joan’s mentorship and encouraging words. Before she saw the monster behind the mask. Or so she had convinced herself, up until earlier this evening when she saw this regal woman descend like Lady Lucifer from the black depths of the browler and those misguided butterflies started their flurry in her stomach again.

But she had been certain once, that Joan had felt the same way too. Albeit in her own, less direct way, but Vera had  _ felt  _ it, despite how vague Joan’s words or actions might have been. The words of praise after a job well done, the unprompted delivery of dinner all those months ago, the lingering gazes when she’d returned from work after her mother’s death. There was a pride in Joan’s gaze then, yes, but Vera had sensed that there was also something more. But then came that fateful dinner, when Joan refused to admit fault, when she lied to her face and everything between them suddenly crumbled, leaving her heartbroken though she couldn’t really explain why. So like hell would she let Joan use whatever lingering feelings she had against her. Sword now drawn, she wields her weapon, coaxed into battle by the master warrior.

“You know, I did visit you, months ago, in the psychiatric hospital. But you wouldn’t remember...because of the state you were in.” She fixes Joan with a pitying gaze and barely manages to conceal the smug smirk that tugs at the corner of her full lips. She realizes the fault in her strategy too late.

Joan’s gaze grows ice cold as she rises from the cot, pinning Vera face first into the opposite wall before the smaller woman has time to react. She uses her whole body to hold her there, a large palm spread wide across the side of Vera’s head as she presses her cheek roughly into the cold concrete. Vera feels the burn almost instantly.

“You shouldn’t have said that.” She snarls as Vera struggles beneath her weight, thrusting her hips back hard into Joan’s upper thighs as she tries to break free, but Joan’s stronghold remains. “Looks like you’ve got yourself into a bit of a pickle, Vinegar Tits.” She goads huskily into Vera’s ear. Hot breath bathes the side of Vera’s face and she tastes the sweet venom as it invades her parted lips and oozes down the back of her throat.

“Fuck you.” She spits, continuing to struggle against the weight of Joan’s body against her back, twisting and pulling against the firm grasp around her left wrist that’s pinned almost painfully between them. She feels it first, the soft vibration between her shoulder blades, before she registers the low chuckle Joan releases in response.

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Tauntingly, she presses her breasts more firmly into Vera’s upper back and digs her left hip in hard to Vera’s side. The slight shift in her position gives Vera just enough space to wiggle her right arm from between her chest and the wall. “Not as much as you,” she snarks before shoving her elbow with force into Joan’s right ovary, surprising the larger woman and forcing her to stumble back and release her grip. Never defeated, but impressed (and a little aroused) by Vera’s performance and curious to see how far she’ll go, she allows her former deputy the pretense of gaining the upper hand.

Vera charges, shoving the taller woman hard toward the cot, causing her to lose her footing and tumble onto the thin mattress as Vera climbs above her, pressing her forearm against Joan’s throat to shove her awkwardly against the wall. Joan smirks at the unexpectedly wiry woman perched atop her. “Oh my, the little deputy is angry,” she patronizes with a challenge in her coal black gaze.

“It’s. fucking. Governor.” Vera grinds out slowly, enunciating each word as if she were speaking to an idiot instead of the highly intelligent woman who’s always a step ahead. Joan simply stares for a moment, smirk still plastered across her wide lips, letting the fury build in the smaller woman.

Suddenly she reaches forward and seizes Vera’s tie, pulling her down swiftly into a hard, crushing kiss. She pulls away with a grunt when she feels sharp teeth break the fragile skin of her bottom lip and the taste of warm copper fills her mouth. Licking the stinging wound, she watches Vera rise from the cot and straighten her jacket with a victorious grin, wiping a smear of Joan’s blood from the corner of her mouth before she turns and walks toward the cell door.

“I’ll be coming for that shiny little crown.” Joan croons menacingly as Vera slips beyond the door and turns back to offer one final smirk before walking away.

“En garde, Vera.”


End file.
